


Halam'shivanas

by dontknowcats



Series: Ma Vhenan'era [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontknowcats/pseuds/dontknowcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen has disappeared and Inquisitor Lavellan has been given his personal effects, including a small box and a letter. As she ponders over the items, she remembers him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halam'shivanas

Tears streamed down her face as her fingers danced over the small wooden box, occasionally playing over the small latch on the front. But she couldn’t bring herself to open it, not now. Probably not ever. Beside her on the bed lay a letter, addressed to “Ma Vehnan.” She couldn’t help but smile through her tears when it was first handed to her, along with his other things. He had tried so hard to learn Elven, but there was never enough time in the day to learn it all, so she taught him small phrases they could use in passing. His favorite was always Ma Vehnan, even when Solas rolled his eyes at his mispronunciation. Her fellow elf was willing to teach him every so often as well, though.

With his furry mantle covering her back and arms like a blanket, she could still breathe in his scent—the sweet scent of his hair product, made from elfroot, honey, and spindleweed, with rich undertones of the more earthy scent of his sweat still remaining from the constant early morning workouts—and bring back memories. Holding the box close to her chest, she closed her eyes and attempted a deep breath without sobbing. It was difficult, but finally she found herself able to relax and remember him.

* * *

 

The sight of him waiting up in the battlements for her return. She remembered the silhouette of her beloved playing across the top of Skyhold as she and her party returned. When they had finally arrived, she saw him standing to the side of the gate waiting for her.

“Somebody has been rather worried,” Cassandra said softly to her, and no one had to be a seeker to see what she meant: he looked like he hadn’t slept at all in the week she had been gone. Cullen’s hair was blowing in the wind, free from his usual hair product. His eyes, she noticed as she got closer, were blood shot with bags underneath. As the others passed the two by, she reached a hand up slowly to caress his cheek, only to be crushed against him.

“Oh, Maker, I thought I had lost you,” he breathed, keeping her protests silent. Had he sent her a letter other than the one he sent off with her? It was the first time she had parted from him, and she didn’t want to seem standoffish after their first night.

“I-I’m sorry, Cullen… Should I have written you?” She asked, finally feeling his arms relax and loosen their tight hold. “I still don’t really know the… protocol, of sorts, for this…”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he pressed them to her forehead, damp with sweat under the spring sun. “Don’t worry, darling… I’m afraid I’m just too worried. I feel I’m worried enough for Lelianna and Josephine as well as a few others.” He leaned back from her face, his arms falling back to his sides. “You should go give your report and then go change,” he said, sounding rather disappointed to be away from her so soon, “I’ll be around.”

It was obvious from the way he looked at her that he didn’t want her to leave. He was almost like a puppy, and she loved him that much more for it.

“Go tell your men you aren’t feeling well and wait in my quarters. I’ll make this past week up to you,” she whispered, her hand resting briefly upon his chest before slowly traveling downwards. It was just enough for him to say what she had played through her mind for the past few days on repeat.

_“Maker’s breath…”_

* * *

 

Her fingers traced the rounded edges of the ornately designed latch, teasing at the metal top. It fell down only to be immediately returned to its closed position. Her heart raced as she considered what she would find inside. Already she knew it was a ring, but she didn’t want to see it and know it was true. If she didn’t open it, she would never truly know that he was intending to marry her.

A Templar human marrying an elf. It wasn’t the first time, of that she was sure, but it wasn’t a common thing. He would have worn something very formal, probably keeping with his normal brown and red color scheme. And she probably would have worn a dress at almost everyone’s insistence. Dorian and Vivienne would have planned everything perfectly with the help of Josephine. Cassandra would have officiated, more to impress people than anything else (and most likely in her armor, though the two wouldn’t have minded at all).

She couldn’t take it—the thoughts of what was going to be the happiest day of her life being taken from her—and set the box down, grabbing the pillow at her side to press her face into. Taking a deep breath, she was surrounded by thoughts and memories of him, the warmth all around her feeling like a final hug. She could feel the tears return to her eyes and fought off the need to cry into his pillow.

* * *

 

“Good morning.”

It was always far more enjoyable for her to wake up first. The expression on his face when he first saw her made her heart soar.

He would squint in the sunlight and look to his left where she always was. His lips would curl into a smile, some teeth showing, and he would stretch. Sometimes an arm covered his eyes for a few seconds as he took a deep breath and then lower back down so she could once again look into his hazel eyes. Sometimes he would roll onto his side to face her and press his face into the side of her chest as his arms snaked around her waist to hold her close like a pillow. The days when he would hug her she knew he would be slow to get up, but she didn’t mind. It meant more time with him.

But that morning was one of the first that they spent together in her quarters, so she hadn’t pegged all of those little details down yet. She was sat at her desk across the room, wearing her small clothes and a gold and red silk robe that had been gifted to her by a visiting dignitary (Josephine had scoffed at the meager present, but the Inquisitor never seemed to mind).

Cullen slowly sat up rubbing his eyes, his knees moving upwards so he could rest his elbows on them as he spoke to her across the room. “Already doing work, I see… Any news come in overnight?”

“A few updates from Leliana’s agents in the Hinterlands and Emprise Du Lion, a few requests for parties, and charitable donations. Oh, and a request from a Ser Duncan for you to accompany him to his home in Val Foret.” She covered her mouth in an attempt to hide her giggles at his groan of displease, but it obviously didn’t work.

Still completely nude from their night before, the commander slid out from under the covers and made his way towards his lover, hands planting on the chair’s arms as he leaned over her. “Oh, so you find that funny?” He asked with a smirk, “My being flirted with by an Orlesian noble?”

“That part is just understandable, but your response is rather entertaining.”

“Understandable?” One of his eyebrows raised in curiousity.

“Of course. You’re the commander of the Inquisition’s army, your background is respectable, you’re handsome, and you’re great in bed. I’m honestly surprised I captured your attention at all.” Hearing her words replay in her head, her cheeks flushed pink and she raised the papers in her hand in front of her face so he couldn’t see his reaction.

His fingers curled over the top of the papers and as carefully as possible pulled them from her hands. His cheeks were as pink as hers as he studied her face before he cracked a smile.

“I would have to be crazy to not have fallen for you,” he murmured before kissing her. It was a kiss like the ones from the night before, filled with passion and potential for more. He lingered there momentarily before slowly standing up straight. “I love you… and I will follow you to the ends of the earth.”

* * *

 

Slowly she lifted her head up from the pillow to find herself sitting in a dark room, the sun having gone down long ago. She had fallen asleep without realizing it, comfortable enough surrounded by his things to finally rest after such a stressful day. It hurt to know that she had slept so comfortably without him by her side, something she had gotten used to and almost needed to sleep in the past months when she had been at Skyhold.

She set the pillow back down to her side and slid off of the bed, wrapping his pauldron tightly around her as she walked to the candle upon her table. It was lit, the only light source in the room, prompting her to know that someone had checked on her while she had slept. Whoever it was had probably left recently, since she could still see an indention in her chair from where they had sat. She hadn’t spoken to anyone that day save for Cassandra, who had given her Cullen’s effects and her promise of space until she wanted to talk.

She took the candle holder in her fingers, holding the curl of the metal just so as she walked back to her bed. With the candle now resting on the nightstan,d she sat back down and picked the box back up. If she didn’t look, would she ever find closure? Would she find herself staring out the windows or standing on the veranda outside of her quarters, waiting for him to come back?

What would people think of the Inquisitor if she turned into a widow, waiting for her beloved to come back from war? Even if they weren’t married, she knew that she would become a widow in her followers eyes, as well as the eyes of any that opposed them. They would believe her weak and unable to fight if she was still mourning over him.

For the good of the Inquisition, for the good of Thedas, she had to get over her loss. Or at least hide her grief.

Her fingers returned to the latch, undoing it with a sense of purpose this time. Slowly she opened the lid, and what was inside made her breath catch in her throat. It was nothing fancy like the jewelry of Orlais, but instead a simple silver ring, dotted with stones thought sacred by the Dalish. Tears found their way back to her eyes, blurring the sight of the ring as she picked it up.

The plush interior had kept it warm, almost as if Cullen had been holding onto it in his hand only moments before. Curling her own hand around it, she held it tight and shut her eyes.

* * *

 

“I’m surprised you’re still wearing all of that,” she said, peering at him curiously from behind the chair he occupied.

“It is warm, I’ll admit.” He sighed and turned to peck at her cheek. “Shall I go change?”

“If you want to stay alive during our picnic, I should recommend it.”

A chuckle escaped his scarred lips as he pushed himself to stand up, turning to face her. “Alright, allow me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.” He reached forward and rested a hand upon her cheek for a moment before walking to their shared bedroom to change.

The two of them had decided they wanted a short break from commanding armies and saving Thedas, feeling the need to relax without being at the beck and call of the world. So they had left a note with Josephine, stating that they were going to go on a short trip and would return as soon as they could.

The journey to Redcliffe had been enjoyable with the sun shining over the two days it took to reach The Hinterlands and beautiful scenery abound. They would bathe in the streams and lay beneath the stars together, studying the night sky before busying themselves with each other.

Now they were staying at one of the smallest inns in Redcliffe, trying to keep discreet and out of the town’s gossip. They had a picnic planned up by the lake where Blackwall had been found before they returned to Skyhold.

Turning around to lean against the chair, she noticed he hadn’t bothered to close the door while he changed, allowing her a nice view of his body. He was still wearing his small clothes, of course, but she couldn’t help but whistle when he leaned over to pull his “civilian” pants on. Even without him turning around, she could tell his cheeks were turning red from the way he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“Apologies, I just can’t help myself at such a beautiful sight,” she teased as he pulled his shirt over his head. It was a surprise he didn’t somehow get stuck in his shirt while she teased him, seeing how flustered he was getting.

“I feel the same way about your rear as well,” he said, straightening the collar of his shirt before walking towards her with a sly smile.

“Save it for when we get to the lake… I’m sure these are relatively thin walls.” She watched him glance around, inspecting the walls with a nod.

“I’m sure that’s true, so let’s hurry.”

She rolled her eyes at his response, her lips curled into a smile as he gathered up their belongings. As they walked out the door, she placed ten silvers on the table as a tip of sorts before shutting the room up behind her. The two walked hand in hand to the stables, where their horses had stayed over night.

The two walked their steads out of the town, climbing onto them once they were outside the gates. They cantered for a while, though that didn’t last for too long. It only took one look between the two of them before they kicked their horses into a full gallop. They jumped fallen logs and raced down the roads, roaring with laughter all the way to the lake.

When they finally slowed back down to a trot around the lake, she could see plainly that she had forgotten to do his hair: it was blown back and all around, curling more than usual at the ends. It made her laugh a bit, but she knew her hair had been tossed about just as much.

The next few hours had been some of the brightest of her life. They ate and drank, laughed, played, studied each other, memorized each other. They lived as if it was their last night on earth, and it was partly true. The two would never know if they would return to each other the next day or not, but they knew that if they didn’t, they would never properly function as a living being again.

* * *

 

The ring fit perfectly on her finger and glimmered in the candle light. Her lower lip trembled as she continued to look at it, so she turned finally to the letter sitting on the bed. There was no seal nor a date on the letter, keeping her from knowing if it had been written long ago or recently, or if she was to ever receive it.

Slowly she unfolded it, her mind racing to figure out what it could say, if someone else had already read it, if it was even finished.

His familiar scrawl covered the paper, rushed in places with the more important information but as beautiful as ever in places where he spoke of her. He had focused, it seemed, when he thought of her.

_‘Please do not worry,’ ‘Please do not tell others,’ ‘Please do not lose hope,’ ‘Please know that I love you.’_

As she read further down, her heart began to beat faster and adrenaline filled her veins. She had to tell someone. Anyone.

Jumping from the bed, the candle and its holder fell to the stone ground with a clatter, lighting the room from the floor.

“Cassandra!”

She couldn’t stop her tears from flowing now as she ran down the stairs of her quarter and out into the main hall.

_“Cassandra!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I don't know much elvish, so I took a stab at the series name (My Heart's Story), and just used a phrase for the title (The Sweet Sacrifice of Duty). If I fucked it up, please tell me!


End file.
